


so quite a new thing

by illimerence



Series: bull and krem's sexcellent adventures [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Canon Trans Character, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22462228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illimerence/pseuds/illimerence
Summary: Puberty 2 has Krem all kinds of fucked up.
Relationships: Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi/Iron Bull
Series: bull and krem's sexcellent adventures [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099418
Comments: 13
Kudos: 137





	so quite a new thing

**Author's Note:**

> this fic uses a combination of male-coded (cock, dick) and female-coded (cunt, g-spot) words for a trans man's genitals. it also contains detailed descriptions of the effects of testosterone. if that triggers yr dysphoria maybe give this one a skip. stay safe!

So: Krem’s been on testosterone eight or so months and it’s great, everything’s going swimmingly, better than he could have imagined.

His voice had dropped first, rapidly over the first few months, and now strangers don’t change their concept of his gender every time he opens his mouth. He’s got a fair bit of body hair too, his stomach and his legs are nicely fuzzy, and he has to shave his face roughly once a week due to the ratty, teenage boy moustache and scraggly neck beard he’s begun to develop. His energy has practically doubled, and so has his time at the gym: his biceps look fucking great, developing more in the past few months than hours at the gym had given him in the past few years. He feels better than he literally ever has, the testosterone doing more for his mood than any antidepressant he’d ever taken in Tevinter.

And then, eight months in, it hits him.

It sort of sneaks up on him, actually. He’s always had a high sex drive (when he hasn’t been in a pit of dysphoria), so jerking off every night before sleeping doesn’t strike him as anything odd. Neither does the occasional wank in his morning shower. His thoughts wandering into fantasy-land while he’s driving home from work or cooking dinner isn’t alarming up until the point that he finds himself taking regular evening showers to Take Care Of It, and even then he doesn’t fully understand. It’s not until he wakes up one morning wet from a dream involving himself, his best friend, and the creative use of a washing machine that he realises the extent of the situation.

After he gets himself off ( _don’t think of Bull,_ he thinks, images from his dream still heavy in his mind; _don’t think of Bull’s hands, don’t think of Bull’s mouth, don’t think of – oh, fuck_ ) he lies breathless in bed and takes stock.

He’d jerked off before bed last night. And in the shower immediately after getting home from work. And in the shower that morning _before_ work. And he’d seriously considered locking himself in the unisex bathroom around lunch time, too, although common sense had won that battle.

He covers his face with his hands and laughs at himself. Puberty 2 has him all kinds of fucked up.

It wouldn’t be so much of an issue, he thinks, if it weren’t so fucking distracting. He spends a fair amount of time (a fairly embarrassing amount of time) counting down to his next opportunity to get off. He zones out during a slow afternoon at work daydreaming about going down on a non-specific woman. He almost hurts himself at the gym because he’s too busy fantasizing about getting fucked in the showers to focus on the equipment. He gets drinks with the boys after work and finds himself totally tuned out of the conversation, lost instead in Bull’s earthquake of a voice, the slant of his mouth, the size of his hand where it wraps around his glass and the length of his fingers and how huge they’d feel inside him, how thoroughly they would open him up –

“Krem. You doing okay in there?”

Krem jerks his eyes from Bull’s hands to Bull’s face. “Sorry?”

“You’ve been somewhere else all evening,” Bull says. “Is everything alright?”

Krem looks about. They’re alone in the booth – Krem had said goodbye automatically to their friends as they left one or two at a time, having said nothing of substance all night, instead sitting there having pornographic images playing in his head. “Oh,” Krem says, “no, yeah, everything’s fine. Sorry. I’ve been kind of distracted.”

Bull hums. “Distracted?” he prompts.

“Not by anything in particular,” Krem says. “Just, you know. Things are distracting.”

“Anything you need to talk about?”

Krem looks down into his mostly-full pint glass. “Nah, I’m good. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“C’mon, Krem. You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Krem sighs, hoping it comes across as appropriately put-upon. He knows that, really, he’s just delaying the inevitable. Bull has people skills to rival any social worker and it’s only a matter of time before his expert concerned face and gentle questioning get the truth out of him.

“It’s a non-issue, Bull,” he says, “really.”

“You’ll feel better if you talk it out.” And he’s leaning forward on his elbows, looking at Krem in a way that always makes Krem feel like Bull’s only a few moments away from saying something like _this is a safe space_ or _and how does that make you feel?_

“Okay,” Krem says, “okay. Fine.” He looks away from Bull, takes a long drink of his beer. “Fuck, this is embarrassing.”

Bull holds his hands up. “Hey. I’m not gonna judge.”

“I know, I know,” Krem says. “Okay. Uh. So. I’m… experiencing a… an HRT side effect.” Bull doesn’t say anything, just makes an encouraging noise and keeps looking at Krem in that way of his. “Okay,” Krem says again. “I… am… _so_ fucking horny.”

Bull very kindly does not laugh (he wants to laugh, Krem can tell, because Bull’s his best friend and he knows when he’s fucking swallowing a laugh) as Krem hurries to clarify, “Like not just right now – _oh my god_ I mean not right now, but like, generally. I’m so horny like, all the time.”

Bull sits back in his chair. “Okay.”

“And,” Krem continues, because now that Bull’s got him to open his mouth he’s apparently not capable of stopping, “and I can’t do anything about it because I can’t be fucked having the whole conversation with someone entirely new, or like, dealing with chasers if I get a fucking Grindr, so I’m just jerking off like… constantly. And it’s fucking _distracting._ ”

There’s a significant pause before Bull says, “If you don’t want to go through everything with someone new, why don’t you fuck someone you already know?”

Krem snorts. “It’s not that simple. We’re not all like you, Chief, with suitors of all genders lining up for a chance to Ride the Bull.”

“Well,” Bull says, leaning forward again, “you already know me.”

Bull really is going to kill Krem one of these days, Krem’s certain of it. “Ha. Funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

Krem looks at Bull. It’s difficult, sometimes, to tell if he’s fucking around; he’s more than mastered the art of deadpan delivery. He has one eyebrow raised, and he has this half-smile on his face that isn’t quite a smirk but isn’t exactly not one, either, waiting for Krem to reply.

“Um,” Krem says.

“So,” Bull says, “how about it?”

“You’re offering to sleep with me,” Krem clarifies.

“I _want_ to sleep with you.”

Krem’s sure he must be making some ridiculous, disbelieving expression. “Since when do you want to sleep with me?”

“I don’t know,” Bull says, and drains his beer. “How long have we known each other?”

“How long –“ Krem splutters. “Andraste’s ass, Chief, you didn’t wanna say something before I spent the last I don’t know how long going out of my mind from sexual frustration?”

Bull shrugs and says, “Humans have weird hang-ups about fucking their friends. I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“Andraste’s ass,” Krem says again. “Fuck. Okay. Well. In light of new information. Yes. Please. I would like that. Very much.”

Bull’s half-smile widens into a grin. “Great. I can come over tomorrow, if you like.”

“Okay,” Krem says in a strained voice. “Okay, yeah, okay, that would be great.”

“Great,” Bull says. “You need a ride home?”

+

He takes a shower as soon as he gets home from work. He tells himself it’s because he’s been wearing his binder all day so he’s a little uncomfortable in a way that heat will help, but as soon as he’s in the shower he’s slipping one hand between his legs to touch his cock. He spreads his legs a little, one arm against the shower wall as he rubs himself. The vague sexual thoughts he’s been having all day form into something surer: he wants to get _fucked_. It’s been a while since he’s had any kind of sex but longer since he’s been fucked – not since well before he started T – and he wants it. Wants to be bent over and taken, wants it to be rough, wants it to _hurt_.

Krem sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, getting them wet with spit, and presses one of them against his asshole, rubbing at it while he jerks himself off. He’s thinking about having his hip gripped tight enough to bruise as he’s opened up, and he pushes his finger into himself up to the second knuckle and sighs. He’s so tight inside, but his finger is slick enough for that to not matter so much, and he pushes forward until he can’t anymore. Fuck, he wants it deeper, can feel the phantom sensation of how good it would be as he slowly slides a second finger into himself.

Fuck, but he wants a cock inside him. The last time he got fucked she’d put him on his front, crouched over him with one hand on his back pressing him into the mattress as she guided her cock into him, sliding in slowly as he groaned beneath her, tilting his hips and pressing backwards to get her deeper quicker.

She’d felt so big inside him, filling him up perfectly, and he’d come so quickly, gasping and pressing his thighs together as she fucked him hard. He wants that, wants to feel full—he’s grinding his fingers into himself now, wriggling them inside him like he can somehow get deeper, and the fingers of his other hand are flying over his cock—he wants it so badly it hurts, he can’t get deep enough, he wants someone on top of him, opening him up with their dick—and oh fuck, he wants it to be big, he wants to feel stuffed—and oh _fuck_ , Bull is enormous, how must it feel to get–

“Krem?”

Oh fuck. He bites back a moan as he comes, feeling himself squeeze down rhythmically as the pleasure radiates out from his core.

He leans against the shower wall, his legs shaking a little. “I’m,” he starts, his voice wavering. He takes a deep breath. “I’m in the shower,” he calls. “There’s beer in the fridge, I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Gotcha,” Bull says from the other side of the door.

He catches his breath, the tile cool against his overheated forehead. Once he’s certain his legs will be able to hold his weight he straightens up, gives himself a cursory scrub-down (still lying to himself somewhat about why he’d gotten into the shower in the first place), and gets out of the shower.

He foregoes his binder. He’s worn it all day, and Bull’s seen him without it plenty of times besides. He pulls on his sweatpants and an old t-shirt and glances at himself briefly in the steamed-up bathroom mirror before he leaves the room.

He finds Bull in the kitchen, sitting at the counter with a beer bottle open in one hand. Bull looks up at him and smirks. “Good shower?”

“Mm,” Krem says, noncommittal, and goes to the fridge to get a beer for himself.

“You think about me?”

Krem grins and rolls his eyes, even though he’s facing the other way and Bull can’t see him. “Get over yourself, Chief.”

Bull laughs. “That’s a yes.”

“Unbelievable,” Krem mutters, unable to hold back a smile. He pops the top off his beer and goes to sit with Bull.

“Before this goes anywhere,” Bull says, “we’re going to have a talk.”

“Of course we are,” Krem says. “I wouldn’t expect anything different from the man with a communication kink.”

“You love me.”

“If you say so,” Krem teases. “So. What are we talking about?”

Bull shrugs and leans towards Krem, just a little. “What you’re into. What you’re uncomfortable with. Language, safewords, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, that’s all?” Krem laughs. “Do you have this conversation with everyone you fuck?”

“Well,” Bull says, “yeah.”

“Right,” Krem says. He clears his throat uncomfortably. “Do we have to talk about it? Why can’t we just do it?”

“What’s the matter, Krem? We talk about sex over beers all the time.”

“Sure, but we’re not usually talking about the sex that we’re going to be having with each other.”

Bull shrugs. “It’s not that different.”

“Not to you, maybe,” Krem says. “You’re so well-adjusted when it comes to sex it’s a little bit scary.”

“Compared to humans, yeah. You all have some weird hang-ups about fucking. Not that I’m judging you for it or anything.”

“Yeah, thanks, that makes me feel way less awkward,” Krem says, and shoves at Bull’s shoulder. Bull, as usual, is immovable. “Okay. If we have to talk about it let’s get it over with.”

“It doesn’t have to be this big awkward thing, you know,” Bull points out. “Talking about sex can be kinda hot.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure that’s not just your communication kink saying that.”

“Look,” Bull says, “would it make it easier for you if I just asked you questions and you gave me yes or no answers?”

“I guess.”

“This isn’t a big deal. I’m not going to judge you or anything like that.”

“I know you’re not, chief. I’m just… I haven’t really had a pre-sex sex talk before, unless you count like… sexting.”

“Sexting totally counts,” Bull says. “Okay. Let’s start simple.”

Krem takes a long swallow from his beer in preparation. “Right. Ask away.”

“Do you like to top?”

“Sure.” He has a pretty decent collection of dicks, too, if he says so himself, all in different sizes and shapes and colours. He’s not really looking to top Bull tonight, though. It can be a lot of fun—especially if he uses the dick with a built-in vibe in the base—but tonight he really just wants to get fucked.

“What about bottoming? Penetration?”

Krem licks his lips. “Yeah.”

“In your – oh yeah, what do you call your junk?”

That startles a laugh out of Krem. Nobody’s asked him that before. “You mean my cunt?”

“Yeah, that,” Bull says, grinning. “And..?”

“…my cock?”

“Thanks. Don’t want to ruin the mood by calling your cock something it isn’t.”

“That’s… thoughtful.”

“Don’t mention it,” Bull says. “Anyway. You like getting fucked in your cunt?”

Krem feels his face start to prickle with heat. He clears his throat. “Most of the time.”

“What about butt stuff?”

Yeah, Krem’s definitely turning pink. Not out of embarrassment; it’s the kind of flush he gets when he watches really good porn. He’s starting to get wet, too, noticeably so. When he shifts in his seat he can feel it against the insides of his thighs.

“Uh. Very much. Honestly… I was kind of hoping that was where tonight was heading,” Krem admits.

Bull grins that slow, wide smile of his. “Oh, yeah?”

“Uh… yeah. I mean. It’s been a while. I haven’t been fucked since before I started T, but…”

“We can go slow,” Bull says, and there’s something different about his voice—there’s a little more gravel to it, maybe. “As slow as you need. Get you good and worked up first. Maybe give you a couple orgasms before the main event.”

Krem swallows. He can’t look away from Bull’s stupid smirking face. “That… yeah. Yep, that sounds good. Yeah.”

“What about oral?” Bull asks. “You cool with me sucking you off?”

“Yeah,” Krem says. His voice cracks in the middle, going sort of squeaky, and he coughs. “I mean. Yeah.”

“So I could get you off with my mouth, first? Get you nice and relaxed, so I can open you up easy? Maybe finger you a little while I’m sucking your cock?”

Krem presses his thighs together. He’s so hard he can feel his cock throbbing, and he’s sure that if he was wearing underwear they’d be soaked through. As it is, there may or may not being a damp patch forming on the crotch of his sweatpants.

“You doing okay over there, Krem-puff?” Bull asks, looking amused.

Krem clears his throat. “Yeah, just, ah, you know.”

“Yeah,” Bull says. He stands. Krem, who has seen Bull more days than not over the several years he’s known him and as such thought himself used to Bull’s, well, Bull-ness, is suddenly struck by the size of him. He looks up at Bull, who is smirking infuriatingly down at him, and unconsciously wets his lips.

“Hey,” Bull says suddenly. “Can I kiss you?”

“What? Of course you can.” And then Bull’s leaning down into his space to kiss him hot and soft.

Krem kisses back immediately and enthusiastically, his hands flying up to grip Bull’s horns, mouth already falling open in invitation; Bull laughs against his mouth and licks briefly at his lower lip. Krem is melting, his legs spreading without his permission, his cock throbbing insistently – it _has_ been a very long time, and he’s been wanting this, or something like this, for what feels like aeons.

Krem’s sliding down in his chair, his legs bracketing Bull’s, and Bull stops kissing him to say, “You want to move this somewhere more comfortable? I mean, I could always fuck you over the counter –“

Krem laughs breathlessly. “Bedroom?”

They manage to make it to the bedroom without getting too distracted. Or, well. Krem’s plenty distracted already. He tugs his shirt off over his head as soon as they get in the door, throwing it into the corner, and he turns to look at Bull, spreading his arms wide and grinning crookedly. “Come at me,” he says.

“You first,” Bull says, leering. He kisses Krem again, easy, like they’ve been doing it forever, and then Krem’s on his back on the bed with Bull kneeling over him and he can’t quite remember how they got there.

Bull gets a hand between Krem’s legs over his sweatpants and rubs him a little, and Krem, he doesn’t know if he’s ever been this horny in his life. He tilts his hips up to rub his dick against Bull’s hand.

“Hey,” Bull says again, “I want to suck your cock. Can I?”

Krem’s mind goes sort of blank for a moment. “Yeah, yes,” he says, and he scrambles to get his pants off, sliding them down his legs and kicking them to the floor, and then he’s naked.

It’s been a while since he’s been naked with somebody, and he’s surprised by how comfortable he feels. Part of it, he’s sure, is Bull; he’s never felt anything other than one hundred percent accepted and understood by him, and he loves the guy, has never had a better friend. But he knows, too, that a little over eight months ago he only had sex with his shirt on. Now when he looks at himself in the mirror he feels hot in a way that he never has: his shoulders and arms and chest are bulkier, his stomach covered in hair, and even with tits he looks like a man.

He has to spread his legs wide so that Bull can fit between them, his knees hooked over Bull’s horns, and the image of Bull between his legs is going to be seared into his mind for the rest of his life. Bull runs one thumb up Krem’s cock, from root to tip, and Krem’s legs twitch violently when the pad of his thumb passes over the head. Bull looks up at him and grins.

“Been a while?”

“You know it has.”

“Gotta say, Krem, you look pretty fuckin’ good from this angle.” And he dips his head to lick flatly over Krem’s cock.

Krem breathes in sharply through his teeth, flattening his hands against the sheets. Bull’s mouth is hot, and he knows what he’s doing with his tongue, licking teasing circles around the base of Krem’s cock before flicking over the tip. When he takes it between his lips and sucks, Krem’s fingers curl in the sheets and he mutters “fuck, Bull,” shocked at the gruffness of his own voice.

Bull’s lips work around Krem’s dick and Krem’s thighs are tensing and relaxing as he tries not to just rut against Bull’s mouth. But Bull slides his hands under Krem’s ass and tugs him closer, all but asking Krem to fuck his mouth; when Krem does, rolling his hips up to meet Bull’s mouth, Bull makes a satisfied-sounding growl low in his throat.

And fuck, but it’s good. Krem knows, of course, about Bull’s reputation. How could he not? He’s been friends with the guy for years and Bull doesn’t have many qualms about kissing and telling. He’s heard about it from every angle: Bull’s and the boys’ and, on multiple occasions, from whoever it is that Bull’s been screwing.

It’s one thing to know that Bull is good in bed and another thing entirely to experience it.

Bull sucks cock with such obvious enthusiasm that Krem almost feels like he’s doing Bull a favour by letting him suck him off. He keeps a thumb at the base of Krem’s cock, pulling the hood back lightly so he can tongue at the sensitive skin of the head, pull it between his lips and lathe at it until Krem’s gasping and writhing and tearing at the sheets. He can feel his orgasm building steadily—it’s going to be a big one, he thinks, despite the fact that he got himself off not even an hour ago—and Bull just keeps working him towards him with a single-minded focus.

“Bull,” Krem moans, “fuck, fingers, please!”

Bull rubs his slick fingers over Krem’s asshole, then ducks back down to take Krem’s cock into his mouth again as he slides one inside. Krem shudders at the feeling: Bull’s finger is a lot thicker than his own, and longer, and that first slow press of Bull’s finger inside him is almost enough to get him there on its own.

“Fuck,” Krem mutters thickly.

Bull strokes gently at Krem’s insides, just one finger working Krem up to the point of no return. His mouth is so hot on Krem’s cock and his finger reaches further inside him than Krem can manage himself, and he can feel it, his orgasm building seemingly right where Bull’s finger is pressing inside him.

“Oh fuck,” Krem says again, “Bull, holy shit, I’m going to,” and Bull looks up at him from between his legs right as Krem starts to come. His back bows as he tries to shove himself down onto Bull’s hand and up against his mouth at the same time, the pleasure curling through him hot and sharp as Bull sucks him through it.

Bull disentangles Krem’s legs from around his head and moves up Krem’s body. The lower half of his face is covered in Krem’s slick, his lips shiny with it, and the sight has Krem groaning and pulling Bull down to kiss him, to taste his own come on Bull’s tongue.

“Fuck,” Krem says. “That was. Fuck.”

“Glad to be of service.”

Bull fucks Krem slowly on one finger while Krem is still coming down, stretched out alongside him so Krem can feel the heat of him against his skin. Krem sighs, letting his legs fall open further, his cock still hard and flushed between his legs. “How you doing, Krem de la Crème?” Bull asks. Krem can hear the smile in his voice.

“Pretty fucking good,” Krem says, and then gasps when Bull crooks his finger, somehow managing to rub against Krem’s g-spot from a completely different angle than Krem’s used to when he gets it in his cunt. “Fuck, Bull!”

“You ready for another?”

“Please,” Krem groans.

Two fingers is a stretch, but a nice one, the kind that leaves Krem feeling breathless and a little wrecked in the best possible way. It’s an odd thing to try and get used to again after so long without; his ass is so tight that every time Bull does something particularly pleasing and he clenches around him it tries to push Bull out.

Krem reaches between his legs to play with his dick. He’s not trying to come, he’s just so _hard_ , and it’s difficult to ignore it. He rubs gently along the sides, not touching it directly, trying to alleviate some of the pressure.

Bull growls. “Fuck, that looks nice,” he says, his voice all chest, and he rolls his hips against Krem’s side: he’s hard.

Krem knew, objectively, that Bull would be hard. He knew that Bull would be big—he’s seen the guy’s dick before, albeit soft and in completely unerotic situations. He knew, for a given definition of the word, that Bull was attracted to him.

Feeling Bull’s cock against him, rock hard (because of him!) and hot even through his jeans, is mind-blowing.

Krem moans, loud and breathless, his legs twitching against the bed. He reaches down to cup Bull’s cock through his trousers, squeezing lightly. “Venhedis, Bull, get your fucking dick out before I fucking implode!”

He feels Bull’s laugh at his core. “You’re pretty impatient for a guy who just came five minutes ago,” Bull says, but he slides his fingers out of Krem and strips out of his jeans, kicking them over the side of the bed.

“Oh,” says Krem. “Oh, yeah.” He curls his fingers slowly around Bull’s cock, drags his hand up the length of him, lets himself linger. Bull breathes out long and slow, and when Krem manages to drag his eyes away from his cock and look up at his face, Bull is watching his hand on him.

“I want,” Krem says.

“Not yet.” Bull’s fingers find Krem’s ass again, pressing back in, two of them, then three. Three’s a lot—three’s almost too much—and Krem has to take a moment, breathe through the sensation in his stomach that’s right on the knife-edge of euphoria and panic. But Bull pulls back, adds more lube, pushes back inside with a slow, slick slide, and Krem’s gut settles decidedly on the side of euphoria.

“Fuck!” Krem shudders, hot static rushing through him. “Bull, please, come on.”

Bull turns his fingers in a slow circle inside him. “You think you’re ready?”

“So ready,” Krem says. “Come on, Bull, I know what I signed up for.”

Bull looks at him closely. Whatever he sees in Krem’s face must be what he’s looking for, because he nods and slips his fingers out of him. Krem’s ass clenches around nothing, and he swallows something close to a whine.

Krem pushes himself up on his elbows to see Bull rolling the condom on, and then Bull’s back over him, leaning down to kiss him quickly. “How’d you want it?”

“Like this,” Krem says quietly, pulling his legs up for Bull.

“Fuck,” Bull mutters. “Fuck, you’re hot.”

Krem laughs breathlessly, until he feels the head of Bull’s cock up against his asshole, and then he’s choking on a gasp as Bull presses in.

More than anything, it’s a _relief_. Krem opens his mouth in a silent moan, his back arching as Bull’s cock stretches him open and fills him up. It’s intense and it’s a little uncomfortable and it’s so fucking good Krem thinks for a moment he might cry, which is saying something, because he hasn’t so much as teared up since starting T.

He grabs at Bull’s shoulders, gasping for air as Bull pushes in and in and in, until finally he’s all the way inside him and Krem is so perfectly full.

Bull stills inside him for a moment. “You good?”

Krem opens his mouth to tell him yes, but what comes out instead is, “ _Fuck_ you’re big,” all in a rush.

“Hmm, yeah,” Bull says. “Do you need me to stop?”

“Sweet fucking Maker, Bull, don’t you dare.”

Bull rocks his hips, and again, tiny motions that set Krem’s blood alight. He drags his nails across Bull’s biceps, claws at his ass, grips his thighs and tries to pull him in deeper, faster, but Bull just keeps at it with short, fluid thrusts that have Krem swearing, “Fuck, Bull, shit, come on, fuck me already, _fuck_ ,” until he gives up and relaxes into it—which, of course, is when Bull pulls out, adjusts his grip and slams back in hard enough to drive the air from Krem’s lungs.

Krem’s fingers spasm against Bull’s thighs, and his head falls back, and, “Oh, fuck,” he gasps, and that’s the last coherent thing he says for a while; because Bull is fucking him like it’s his job and it feels so fucking good that all he can do is hold on tight and feel it.

His entire awareness narrows in on the places Bull is touching him: his hips, his thighs, his mouth. Bull kisses him so sweetly that it wouldn’t be out of place in a Regency-era romance novel, and it’s at such a contrast with the deliciously rough movement of his cock inside him that it just makes it all the more intense.

He’s making noises, jumbled, unintelligible things that sound almost but not quite like words, all vowels and no consonants, and Bull’s talking back, a constant low rumble of “that’s it, I’ve got you, so hot like this.”

It absolutely takes him by surprise when he comes again, untouched except for where the very tip of his cock rubs against the swell of Bull’s belly. His eyes widen and his mouth falls open and he groans something very close to Bull’s name, and then it overtakes him, bursting hot and shocking in his gut, spreading out through his body in waves.

Bull starts to slow as Krem collapses against the mattress. Krem feels like he’s maybe thirty seconds from passing out, but Maker, he doesn’t want this over with yet. “Don’t,” he manages to say. “Stay in me.”

“You sure?” Bull’s voice is dark with arousal, and it sends a shiver up Krem’s spine.

“Wanna make you come.” The words all slur together. Bull’s starting to go a little blurry.

“Fuck,” Bull growls. “Fuck, okay.”

Krem clings onto consciousness with all he has. He wraps a heavy arm around Bull’s shoulders and whispers _yesyesyes_ and clenches around his cock, doing his best to make it good for him with what little energy he has left. Bull thrusts into him with fast, short strokes, rocking his body with every movement, and it feels nice, almost comforting, having Bull in him like this when he’s so fucked out he can barely keep his eyes open.

“Not gonna take long,” Bull grits out.

“Mmm,” Krem hums, and, “I want it, do it,” and Bull groans and does, stilling deep inside him as he shakes.

Krem pats clumsily at the sweat-slick skin of Bull’s back. “S’nice,” he mumbles. “Hey, don’t freak out, but I’m gonna coma now.”

He feels, more than hears, Bull’s laugh. And then he’s out.

+

He wakes up warm and pleasantly sore a short while later. He’s alone in his bedroom, but he can hear the muffled sound of the television in his living room, and something smells really good, so he knows Bull’s still about.

He gets up, and it takes him a minute or two for his legs to stop shaking enough that he can actually walk on them. Then he pulls on a fresh pair of underwear and a t-shirt and makes his way to the living room.

Bull is sitting on his sofa, his feet up on his coffee table, eating out of a take-out carton, watching some twenty-year-old romantic comedy. He looks up when he hears Krem approaching, and smiles. It’s the same smile he’s always directed at Krem, wide and warm, but it’s never made Krem’s heart turn over in his chest before.

“Hey, how was your nap?”

Krem shuffles to sit beside him on the sofa. Bull shifts, raising one arm so that Krem can tuck himself against Bull’s side.

“Good,” Krem says. He takes the carton Bull holds out to him wordlessly and digs in. He’s fucking ravenous.

“You need to go grocery shopping,” Bull tells him. “I was gonna cook us dinner, but all you’ve got is condiments and booze.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Krem says through a mouthful of noodles. “I’ll get around to it.”

“You better. You’re a growing boy, you gotta eat well.”

“Thanks, ma,” Krem says, one of his regular digs at Bull’s mum-friend persona, and then winces. “Ah… I think it might be time to retire that nickname.”

Bull chuckles. “What, no mommy kink?”

“Ew. No thanks.” A beat. Then, “I mean, not trying to yuck your yum if that’s what you’re into.”

“Don’t worry,” Bull says. “If you’re gonna call me anything in bed it’s gonna be ‘sir.’”

Krem almost chokes. “What,” he says weakly, “no ‘chief?’”

Bull raises an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth pulling up into a smirk. “I mean,” he says slowly, “if you’re into that…”

Krem… might be into that. He’s never actually considered it before, but judging by the way he’s suddenly very aware of his cunt—well. It’s something to think about.

Something else dawns on him, then. “So,” he says casually, “this, uh, this wasn’t a one-time thing?”

“Not unless you wanted it to be,” Bull says.

Thank the Maker. “Not in the slightest,” Krem says, probably a little too fast. “Actually, I, uh. I’m gonna want to go again in like… ten minutes, so…”

Bull’s smirk widens into a grin.


End file.
